Collapse: 1/?
Alright so, piratepianist had challenged people to write an AU where Pepper winds up being in Afghanistan with Tony when all the crazy explosions happen. ebony_twist posted hers a few days ago and it's totally kick-ass. I had started this but I figured I'd post it, too.
This is the first fic I'm posting to this fandom which is weird and I'm insanely nervous so I'd appreciate constructive criticisms since I am all for improving my writing. Just be gentle. If people wind up being into this I'll follow up with more chapters. I'm sort of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl, anyway.
Un-betaed because uh, I don't have a beta. Volunteers are welcome.
Title: Collapse
Author: backporchpoet
Pairing: Pepper/Tony
Rating: PG
Length: 3,322 words - Part I of ?
Summary: AU; What would have happened if Pepper had been in Afghanistan when Tony was abducted?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own the rights to Iron Man or any of it's characters. Boy, do I wish.
This is not at all how Pepper Potts envisioned her birthday panning out.
In the six years she'd been working for Tony Stark she has learned to dread her birthdays as a whole. They were spent organizing Tony’s schedule in strategic and clever ways to ensure she’d be done with work early enough to spend some time with her estranged friends and family- people who she knows have begun to question if Pepper actually exists or if she's just pepperpotts@starkindustries.com: an entity they never see anywhere outside of their inboxes.
This year, she'd allowed herself to think that maybe, just maybe, the universe had cut her a break for once. The odds of the Jericho pitch to the military falling on the week of her birthday were probably a million to one, but she didn’t actually have Jarvis run the numbers for fear of jinxing it somehow. For her, it was a sign. The cosmos had taken pity on her and her plight as Tony Stark’s assistant and thought that she could use a break for once.
Nothing could ruin this for her, she was so certain of it. The week leading up to her birthday had minimal bumps, nothing out of the ordinary (for Tony, anyway). Not even finding Christine Everhart wandering around the main floor of the mansion that morning in nothing but Tony’s cranberry Armani dress-shirt had put a damper on her mood. Usually wrangling up Tony’s most recent female conquest was a bit inconvenient at best but Christine was surprisingly mouthy for a one-night stand.
Pepper reflected on that morning as she stared out of the window of the jet, and how Christine Everhart thought pretty highly of herself, if only for the fact that she thought she’d been pretty clever to bed her boss. The thought amused Pepper. She was not the first reporter Tony had brought to bed, and she certainly wasn’t the first to assume this gave her some sort of strange advantage or insight to the inner workings of Tony Stark. They couldn’t possibly know better, of course. Something that was so plain as day to Pepper was still a mystery to them. It had made Pepper feel a little cheery, to be able to put the reporter in her place and shut the front door behind her with a quick and satisfying swish of her hips before walking to the window and smiling to herself.
The amount of gratification she’d received from watching Happy drive off with the bewildered reporter had surprised her. Pepper wasn’t generally the type to find joy in putting other people down but there had been a distinct degree in satisfaction at watching Everhart’s face become more solemn as she snatched her clothes out of Pepper’s hands and huffed off to change. Pepper might have been more sympathetic if she’d ever been in that position- or if Miss Everhart had exercised even an ounce of humility upon realizing that her services were no longer needed.
It had been something else entirely that had ruined everything that day. The incident had reminded her of rush week when she’d decided (it was more of a lapse in judgment really) to pledge to a sorority. It was the same element of surprise coupled with the knowledge that there was nothing Pepper could do with Tony practically seizing her by the shoulders and rushing her inside the Jet before she’d had a real chance to escape.
It was more of an ambush, a strange kind of coup d’état more than anything else, and she did not appreciate it, to say the very least. It had happened so quickly, she hadn’t had an opportunity to resist and could not figure out how he’d managed getting her up the steps at all. Rhodes looked bewildered when her eyes had locked with his, which were as large as saucers as Tony pushed his assistant past him. He’d been ready to give Tony hell for being three hours late but the words failed him.
He’d witnessed many strange things occur between them that he couldn’t always decipher, and he knew that there was not much he could do besides side-step out of the line of fire as Pepper stumbled into the cabin, her head whipping around to glare at her boss as he held her by the elbow.
“Come now, Miss Potts, methinks thou doth protest too much.”
“I am not getting on this flight with you, Mr. Stark.”
“I hate to tell you this, but you’re technically already on said flight.”
“I was simply here to ensure you actually boarded the plane with Colonel Rhodes and with all due respect, Sir, you don’t require my services for the duration of this trip.”
“I don’t?”
“No, you don’t. Besides, it’s irrelevant, seeing as how I have plans.”
“Had plans,” he corrected her, moving further into the cabin as Happy finally caught up to them, two sets of bags in either hand. She couldn’t even explain how it was that Happy had a carry-on bag for her at all. His eyes were avoiding hers completely, and Pepper could practically see the guilt radiating off of him. It all seemed suspiciously pre-meditated and it made her terribly uncomfortable and extremely annoyed. The layers of patience Pepper wore so seamlessly were starting to melt away, her face so pink that she was sure there was steam shooting out from her ears at an alarming rate.
If Tony could see this, he made no indication as he attempted to usher her into a seat, but Pepper was standing firm, her knees locked and elbows tucked in tightly at her sides.
“There’s absolutely no reason for me to go,” her voice came out as more of a hiss and Tony raised an eyebrow, almost surprised she was capable of sounding so utterly and completely pissed off.
Almost.
“I need you on this trip, Miss Potts. If something happens to go awry during the weapons presentation I’ll need you there so I can quickly and efficiently harangue the appropriate people via email at lightening speeds.”
Pepper had retorted but her reply fell on deaf ears. There was no point in attempting to break free from his grasp because the door had already shut tightly behind them. Her mouth was agape with a mix of disbelief and horror.
“Wheels up! Rock ‘n Roll!” and as if the plane were taking orders from Tony Stark it began rolling slowly away from the stairs she’d been nearly dragged up against her will and down the runway.
If looks could kill, Tony Stark would have been long dead, leggy stewardesses stepping over him in their impractical heels to make it by him without disturbing the drinks in their hands.
This was three hours ago.
Since the aforementioned injustice, Pepper has had a martini to calm her nerves. It wasn’t really imperative for her to have one until she became deftly aware that somewhere ten feet or so behind her there is an ostentatious display of debauchery involving her boss and a few flight attendants and that tacky pole Tony had installed specifically for the jet.. He mentioned something about the value of quality entertainment and how hard it was to come by. Tony had followed the remark with a smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows and Pepper didn’t bother to hide the way her eyes nearly rolled out of her head. Pepper hoped that Rhodes was being level-headed but knew that Tony had a way of talking anyone into doing anything. It was not long after that she could hear their voices growing louder and more indiscernible.
Sitting near the window, Pepper Potts wonders if her employer pays her nearly enough for this kind of outrageous behavior she has to deal with. It’s bad enough being exposed to it daily, but having to sit through a flight that lasts well over 12 hours straight (she can’t quite remember the duration exactly). It’s inhumane and cruel and most importantly it’s her birthday. Sure, she has never particularly liked the occasion at all but at the very least, she is sure that she still retains the right to mope in the comfort of her own home if she wants to.
Staring out the window and watching land melt into sea for an hour or so helps a little. It’s lowered her blood pressure a few points, and after she’s unable to discern anything outside of the window besides large expanses of deep blue ocean and wisps of clouds whipping past the jet, Pepper comes to the conclusion that there isn’t enough money in the world to justify what Tony Stark does to her. Not by a long shot, as a matter of fact.
That’s when Tony’s hand rests against the arm of her chair and Pepper tenses underneath his palm and takes a measured breath, noting the fact that her boss already smells like sake. She considers the strong possibility that he’s drunk, (they’re pretty good odds considering the time). Tony’s alcohol intake is directly proportional to how late in the evening it is and he’s still running on Pacific Daylight Time. The exchange is inevitable so she tries to mentally brace herself for it and expects the worse even though she’s hard-pressed to think of a way he could possibly make the situation anymore cumbersome.
Besides, Pepper is 95% sure she hates him.
“You know,” he begins, leaning comfortably against the seat. “It’s technically still your birthday.”
There’s an unusual grace about him as he pushes his weight the side of her seat and propels forward enough to slip into the chair across from her. Elbows up on the table between them, Tony cups his chin, studying her face intently. She reminds him of a stern looking librarian.
“Is it now? Lucky me.”
“I could always have Chloe and Veronica sing Happy Birthday to you.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
There is a wordless exchange between them and he blinks a few times. He reminds her of the boy who used to throw sand in her hair.
“It’s more like borderline fury.”
His fingers tap against his lips as he thinks over her response. “Hm, I see.” And that’s all he says for a minute, which is followed by another thoughtful hmm, more drawn out than the last.
“You know, Pepper, I didn’t know it was your birthday.”
“I know. We had that conversation downstairs, after you told me to buy the Pollock and stop haranguing you- and before I thanked you for the gift that I picked out for myself.”
“I mean this whole thing -” Dropping his hands from his face he sighs. “I get separation anxiety, you know, it’s not like I’d get anything done out there without you so I kinda made the executive decision that you were coming too. I knew you wouldn’t want to,” and he stops speaking and looks at her in a way that she has a hard time placing, but it’s gone again and he clears his throat and repeats himself.
“I just didn’t know it was gonna be on your birthday.”
Pepper doesn’t say anything because filling in the pauses in the conversation would be doing him one too many favors.
“Listen, Potts,” he fills the silence with a tone that is apologetic and asking for forgiveness. “When we get back, take a day off.”
There’s something almost sincere about Tony’s face but it’s more selfish than anything else. Tony doesn’t like the idea of Pepper being this upset at him, and ultimately he wants to fix it so that things can go back to normal without him worrying about it for the rest of the flight.
It’s hard for her to imagine he’d remain very distressed about this for too long. It’s hard for Pepper to think that he’s actually concerned about how she feels as much as he’s concerned with the dull pang of guilt eating away at him.
“A week off,” he corrects himself quickly and she glances up at him with eyes that have perfected the art of being entirely unreadable. For the first time since he’s opened his mouth, she notices the drink in his hands. He’s just tapping a finger against the side, ignoring it’s contents as she watches his hands.
“However long it is that you need for uh- whatever it is that you do to celebrate. You deserve it.”
It hits her then that she’s not even sure what she does to celebrate her birthday. Sometimes it’s dinner and drinks, but mostly these types of excursions are to satisfy those close to her and less out of an actual desire to have too many glasses of wine and reflect on the abysmal realization that she’s not getting any younger. She can appreciate the irony of her putting other people first even on her birthday but still can’t genuinely think of how she’d have spent the day if someone wasn’t dragging her off somewhere. If it hadn’t been Tony forcing her to go on this trip, it would have been someone else. Tonight it would have been a girlfriend forcing Pepper into some social situation that she wasn’t particularly interested in. She would probably be having dinner somewhere nice, wearing one of the dozen dresses Pepper had been saving for a special occasion (but hadn’t ever actually worn, not even once) and giving her the third-degree.
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” comes out sounding a little lifeless but she manages a forced smile, one she had perfected long before she went to work for him, back when she was ten years younger and 15 pounds trimmer. A part of Pepper likes to pretend that period in time hadn’t really existed. It’s all a little too stereotypical for her to handle in retrospect. The title of aspiring model was usually reserved for waitresses, not girls with double majors who were struggling to make their tuition payments. If nothing else, it taught Pepper how to perfect her walk while wearing four-inch heels. Now that was a valuable job skill.
It took a moment for it to register that Tony is looking at her expectantly, awaiting some sort of response or affirmation from her that things were fine. The expression on his face isn’t exactly a convinced one and she leans a little further back in her seat and thinks.
“It’s okay. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worked on my birthday, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, either.”
This seems to satisfy him and he smiles, and lifts his glass to his lips, and she watches as he tops off the glass at an unnatural rate. Pepper is sure he doesn’t remember the instances where she’d worked the day of her birthday. Common sense had dictated that telling him that first year especially was hardly relevant or appropriate.
Pepper realizes this train of thought is rendered irrelevant when he cranes his entire torso sideways to admire one of the flight attendants as she shimmies by him and places a tall glass of water in front of Colonel Rhodes. Tony snaps his fingers and calls her by a pet name and she scampers over, eager and obedient, and Pepper barely wonders if this one is Cameron or Violet or whoever.
“I’ll have another one of these,” he says with a shake of his wrists that makes the ice clink. “What’re you having, Potts?”
She thinks about declining but remembers where she is: Hundreds of feet in the air on her way to Afghanistan of all places with a Colonel and her employer, neither of which are particularly sober.
“Another martini, please.” Ignoring the look Tony gives her, she calls after the attendant and asks for extra olives. Pepper is a little more than disappointed when her drink is set in front of her and there are only two olives at the bottom of the glass. Two particularly small looking olives. Runt olives.
What a rip-off.
“So when we land back in Malibu, how are you going to celebrate?” Mentally she’s prepared to wince at whatever lewd comment is about to fly out of his mouth following this but instead what he does is ask her a genuine question.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you having fun, Miss Potts. You’ll probably color code the annual finance budget reports. Do you know how to just let loose and enjoy yourself?”
“I’m having fun,” she counters, and takes a too big gulp of her martini. It’s only her second one but the topic has her wanting to rush through the drink. What he’s saying is ridiculous. She’d never color coordinate the annual finance budget reports. Those get compiled into bound hard copies that are filed in her office for reference.
The yearly evaluations for each division of Stark Industries get color coded and sorted.
“No, you’re not. You’re just saying that to shut me up.”
“Well I’m failing spectacularly at that, aren’t I?”
“Don’t take it too hard, I’ve never met a woman who could render me speechless.”
“What about Miss California 2005?”
“That wasn’t speechlessness,” Tony counters and looks a little wistful as if recalling the memory. “That was earnest patriotism and a love for our country.”
She ignores him and yanks out one of the small olives in her drink by the toothpick and regards it with interest.
“2005...” He's consumed in thought before looking to her for confirmation. “The one with the gorgeous blue eyes, right?”
Pepper hates that she actually remembers this. “Actually, I think they were hazel.”
“Hazel. You’re right, of course. Still enchanting, definitely a national treasure. Unforgettable.”
Pepper snorts before she can control it and when Tony turns his head and raises his eyebrow she makes like she’s clearing her throat instead and pops the olive between her lips, chewing slowly. The action is drawn out and exaggerated and she smirks when she’s done.
Pepper finishes her drink in comfortable silence until Tony is harping at Rhodes for even suggesting they turning in early, which he claims is a major sign of weakness. Rhodey looks more than a little pissed-off when he hears this.
“In case you’ve forgotten, we’re working. I can’t have you show up to the demonstration hung-over, so do me a favor and make that your last drink, alright?”
“C’mon, Platypus.”
“I’m not playing with you, Tony. This is serious.”
“I know. I know. Pepper knows, too. It’s serious, isn’t it Pepper?”
Pepper has been battling heavy eyelids and only notices her name being spoken and jerks her head towards his voice. “Sir?”
Rhodey laughs, a full bodied laugh that makes his head tilt back a little and Pepper isn’t sure what’s so funny at first but the sound reverberates through her spine and makes her feel warm. “I can’t believe she didn’t wring your ass out for dragging her along to this demonstration, on her birthday no less. She’s a saint for putting up with you.”
“It’s a cake-walk. We’ll be in and out of there in no time.” Tony sounds like he’s done this a million times before and she knows that’s mostly true.
“Think of it like a field trip only it’s leaps and bounds more interesting, educational, and not to mention impressive.”
Eventually it’s the sound of Tony’s voice that lulls Pepper to sleep. It’s deep and has just the right amount of low tones while he and Rhodey take turns with their back and forth rapport. The sound of it is rhythmic and comfortingly repetitive like the ticking of a clock and it’s nice to hear their laughter instead of the usual silence she falls asleep to when she’s lying in bed and staring at her bedroom ceiling.
Tony guffaws and it’s the last sound her mind consciously recognizes as she drifts off to sleep, a strange feeling of warmth enveloping her.
Continued: Part II
This is the first fic I'm posting to this fandom which is weird and I'm insanely nervous so I'd appreciate constructive criticisms since I am all for improving my writing. Just be gentle. If people wind up being into this I'll follow up with more chapters. I'm sort of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl, anyway.
Un-betaed because uh, I don't have a beta. Volunteers are welcome.
Title: Collapse
Author: backporchpoet
Pairing: Pepper/Tony
Rating: PG
Length: 3,322 words - Part I of ?
Summary: AU; What would have happened if Pepper had been in Afghanistan when Tony was abducted?
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own the rights to Iron Man or any of it's characters. Boy, do I wish.
This is not at all how Pepper Potts envisioned her birthday panning out.
In the six years she'd been working for Tony Stark she has learned to dread her birthdays as a whole. They were spent organizing Tony’s schedule in strategic and clever ways to ensure she’d be done with work early enough to spend some time with her estranged friends and family- people who she knows have begun to question if Pepper actually exists or if she's just pepperpotts@starkindustries.com: an entity they never see anywhere outside of their inboxes.
This year, she'd allowed herself to think that maybe, just maybe, the universe had cut her a break for once. The odds of the Jericho pitch to the military falling on the week of her birthday were probably a million to one, but she didn’t actually have Jarvis run the numbers for fear of jinxing it somehow. For her, it was a sign. The cosmos had taken pity on her and her plight as Tony Stark’s assistant and thought that she could use a break for once.
Nothing could ruin this for her, she was so certain of it. The week leading up to her birthday had minimal bumps, nothing out of the ordinary (for Tony, anyway). Not even finding Christine Everhart wandering around the main floor of the mansion that morning in nothing but Tony’s cranberry Armani dress-shirt had put a damper on her mood. Usually wrangling up Tony’s most recent female conquest was a bit inconvenient at best but Christine was surprisingly mouthy for a one-night stand.
Pepper reflected on that morning as she stared out of the window of the jet, and how Christine Everhart thought pretty highly of herself, if only for the fact that she thought she’d been pretty clever to bed her boss. The thought amused Pepper. She was not the first reporter Tony had brought to bed, and she certainly wasn’t the first to assume this gave her some sort of strange advantage or insight to the inner workings of Tony Stark. They couldn’t possibly know better, of course. Something that was so plain as day to Pepper was still a mystery to them. It had made Pepper feel a little cheery, to be able to put the reporter in her place and shut the front door behind her with a quick and satisfying swish of her hips before walking to the window and smiling to herself.
The amount of gratification she’d received from watching Happy drive off with the bewildered reporter had surprised her. Pepper wasn’t generally the type to find joy in putting other people down but there had been a distinct degree in satisfaction at watching Everhart’s face become more solemn as she snatched her clothes out of Pepper’s hands and huffed off to change. Pepper might have been more sympathetic if she’d ever been in that position- or if Miss Everhart had exercised even an ounce of humility upon realizing that her services were no longer needed.
It had been something else entirely that had ruined everything that day. The incident had reminded her of rush week when she’d decided (it was more of a lapse in judgment really) to pledge to a sorority. It was the same element of surprise coupled with the knowledge that there was nothing Pepper could do with Tony practically seizing her by the shoulders and rushing her inside the Jet before she’d had a real chance to escape.
It was more of an ambush, a strange kind of coup d’état more than anything else, and she did not appreciate it, to say the very least. It had happened so quickly, she hadn’t had an opportunity to resist and could not figure out how he’d managed getting her up the steps at all. Rhodes looked bewildered when her eyes had locked with his, which were as large as saucers as Tony pushed his assistant past him. He’d been ready to give Tony hell for being three hours late but the words failed him.
He’d witnessed many strange things occur between them that he couldn’t always decipher, and he knew that there was not much he could do besides side-step out of the line of fire as Pepper stumbled into the cabin, her head whipping around to glare at her boss as he held her by the elbow.
“Come now, Miss Potts, methinks thou doth protest too much.”
“I am not getting on this flight with you, Mr. Stark.”
“I hate to tell you this, but you’re technically already on said flight.”
“I was simply here to ensure you actually boarded the plane with Colonel Rhodes and with all due respect, Sir, you don’t require my services for the duration of this trip.”
“I don’t?”
“No, you don’t. Besides, it’s irrelevant, seeing as how I have plans.”
“Had plans,” he corrected her, moving further into the cabin as Happy finally caught up to them, two sets of bags in either hand. She couldn’t even explain how it was that Happy had a carry-on bag for her at all. His eyes were avoiding hers completely, and Pepper could practically see the guilt radiating off of him. It all seemed suspiciously pre-meditated and it made her terribly uncomfortable and extremely annoyed. The layers of patience Pepper wore so seamlessly were starting to melt away, her face so pink that she was sure there was steam shooting out from her ears at an alarming rate.
If Tony could see this, he made no indication as he attempted to usher her into a seat, but Pepper was standing firm, her knees locked and elbows tucked in tightly at her sides.
“There’s absolutely no reason for me to go,” her voice came out as more of a hiss and Tony raised an eyebrow, almost surprised she was capable of sounding so utterly and completely pissed off.
Almost.
“I need you on this trip, Miss Potts. If something happens to go awry during the weapons presentation I’ll need you there so I can quickly and efficiently harangue the appropriate people via email at lightening speeds.”
Pepper had retorted but her reply fell on deaf ears. There was no point in attempting to break free from his grasp because the door had already shut tightly behind them. Her mouth was agape with a mix of disbelief and horror.
“Wheels up! Rock ‘n Roll!” and as if the plane were taking orders from Tony Stark it began rolling slowly away from the stairs she’d been nearly dragged up against her will and down the runway.
If looks could kill, Tony Stark would have been long dead, leggy stewardesses stepping over him in their impractical heels to make it by him without disturbing the drinks in their hands.
This was three hours ago.
Since the aforementioned injustice, Pepper has had a martini to calm her nerves. It wasn’t really imperative for her to have one until she became deftly aware that somewhere ten feet or so behind her there is an ostentatious display of debauchery involving her boss and a few flight attendants and that tacky pole Tony had installed specifically for the jet.. He mentioned something about the value of quality entertainment and how hard it was to come by. Tony had followed the remark with a smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows and Pepper didn’t bother to hide the way her eyes nearly rolled out of her head. Pepper hoped that Rhodes was being level-headed but knew that Tony had a way of talking anyone into doing anything. It was not long after that she could hear their voices growing louder and more indiscernible.
Sitting near the window, Pepper Potts wonders if her employer pays her nearly enough for this kind of outrageous behavior she has to deal with. It’s bad enough being exposed to it daily, but having to sit through a flight that lasts well over 12 hours straight (she can’t quite remember the duration exactly). It’s inhumane and cruel and most importantly it’s her birthday. Sure, she has never particularly liked the occasion at all but at the very least, she is sure that she still retains the right to mope in the comfort of her own home if she wants to.
Staring out the window and watching land melt into sea for an hour or so helps a little. It’s lowered her blood pressure a few points, and after she’s unable to discern anything outside of the window besides large expanses of deep blue ocean and wisps of clouds whipping past the jet, Pepper comes to the conclusion that there isn’t enough money in the world to justify what Tony Stark does to her. Not by a long shot, as a matter of fact.
That’s when Tony’s hand rests against the arm of her chair and Pepper tenses underneath his palm and takes a measured breath, noting the fact that her boss already smells like sake. She considers the strong possibility that he’s drunk, (they’re pretty good odds considering the time). Tony’s alcohol intake is directly proportional to how late in the evening it is and he’s still running on Pacific Daylight Time. The exchange is inevitable so she tries to mentally brace herself for it and expects the worse even though she’s hard-pressed to think of a way he could possibly make the situation anymore cumbersome.
Besides, Pepper is 95% sure she hates him.
“You know,” he begins, leaning comfortably against the seat. “It’s technically still your birthday.”
There’s an unusual grace about him as he pushes his weight the side of her seat and propels forward enough to slip into the chair across from her. Elbows up on the table between them, Tony cups his chin, studying her face intently. She reminds him of a stern looking librarian.
“Is it now? Lucky me.”
“I could always have Chloe and Veronica sing Happy Birthday to you.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not?”
There is a wordless exchange between them and he blinks a few times. He reminds her of the boy who used to throw sand in her hair.
“It’s more like borderline fury.”
His fingers tap against his lips as he thinks over her response. “Hm, I see.” And that’s all he says for a minute, which is followed by another thoughtful hmm, more drawn out than the last.
“You know, Pepper, I didn’t know it was your birthday.”
“I know. We had that conversation downstairs, after you told me to buy the Pollock and stop haranguing you- and before I thanked you for the gift that I picked out for myself.”
“I mean this whole thing -” Dropping his hands from his face he sighs. “I get separation anxiety, you know, it’s not like I’d get anything done out there without you so I kinda made the executive decision that you were coming too. I knew you wouldn’t want to,” and he stops speaking and looks at her in a way that she has a hard time placing, but it’s gone again and he clears his throat and repeats himself.
“I just didn’t know it was gonna be on your birthday.”
Pepper doesn’t say anything because filling in the pauses in the conversation would be doing him one too many favors.
“Listen, Potts,” he fills the silence with a tone that is apologetic and asking for forgiveness. “When we get back, take a day off.”
There’s something almost sincere about Tony’s face but it’s more selfish than anything else. Tony doesn’t like the idea of Pepper being this upset at him, and ultimately he wants to fix it so that things can go back to normal without him worrying about it for the rest of the flight.
It’s hard for her to imagine he’d remain very distressed about this for too long. It’s hard for Pepper to think that he’s actually concerned about how she feels as much as he’s concerned with the dull pang of guilt eating away at him.
“A week off,” he corrects himself quickly and she glances up at him with eyes that have perfected the art of being entirely unreadable. For the first time since he’s opened his mouth, she notices the drink in his hands. He’s just tapping a finger against the side, ignoring it’s contents as she watches his hands.
“However long it is that you need for uh- whatever it is that you do to celebrate. You deserve it.”
It hits her then that she’s not even sure what she does to celebrate her birthday. Sometimes it’s dinner and drinks, but mostly these types of excursions are to satisfy those close to her and less out of an actual desire to have too many glasses of wine and reflect on the abysmal realization that she’s not getting any younger. She can appreciate the irony of her putting other people first even on her birthday but still can’t genuinely think of how she’d have spent the day if someone wasn’t dragging her off somewhere. If it hadn’t been Tony forcing her to go on this trip, it would have been someone else. Tonight it would have been a girlfriend forcing Pepper into some social situation that she wasn’t particularly interested in. She would probably be having dinner somewhere nice, wearing one of the dozen dresses Pepper had been saving for a special occasion (but hadn’t ever actually worn, not even once) and giving her the third-degree.
“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” comes out sounding a little lifeless but she manages a forced smile, one she had perfected long before she went to work for him, back when she was ten years younger and 15 pounds trimmer. A part of Pepper likes to pretend that period in time hadn’t really existed. It’s all a little too stereotypical for her to handle in retrospect. The title of aspiring model was usually reserved for waitresses, not girls with double majors who were struggling to make their tuition payments. If nothing else, it taught Pepper how to perfect her walk while wearing four-inch heels. Now that was a valuable job skill.
It took a moment for it to register that Tony is looking at her expectantly, awaiting some sort of response or affirmation from her that things were fine. The expression on his face isn’t exactly a convinced one and she leans a little further back in her seat and thinks.
“It’s okay. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worked on my birthday, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, either.”
This seems to satisfy him and he smiles, and lifts his glass to his lips, and she watches as he tops off the glass at an unnatural rate. Pepper is sure he doesn’t remember the instances where she’d worked the day of her birthday. Common sense had dictated that telling him that first year especially was hardly relevant or appropriate.
Pepper realizes this train of thought is rendered irrelevant when he cranes his entire torso sideways to admire one of the flight attendants as she shimmies by him and places a tall glass of water in front of Colonel Rhodes. Tony snaps his fingers and calls her by a pet name and she scampers over, eager and obedient, and Pepper barely wonders if this one is Cameron or Violet or whoever.
“I’ll have another one of these,” he says with a shake of his wrists that makes the ice clink. “What’re you having, Potts?”
She thinks about declining but remembers where she is: Hundreds of feet in the air on her way to Afghanistan of all places with a Colonel and her employer, neither of which are particularly sober.
“Another martini, please.” Ignoring the look Tony gives her, she calls after the attendant and asks for extra olives. Pepper is a little more than disappointed when her drink is set in front of her and there are only two olives at the bottom of the glass. Two particularly small looking olives. Runt olives.
What a rip-off.
“So when we land back in Malibu, how are you going to celebrate?” Mentally she’s prepared to wince at whatever lewd comment is about to fly out of his mouth following this but instead what he does is ask her a genuine question.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you having fun, Miss Potts. You’ll probably color code the annual finance budget reports. Do you know how to just let loose and enjoy yourself?”
“I’m having fun,” she counters, and takes a too big gulp of her martini. It’s only her second one but the topic has her wanting to rush through the drink. What he’s saying is ridiculous. She’d never color coordinate the annual finance budget reports. Those get compiled into bound hard copies that are filed in her office for reference.
The yearly evaluations for each division of Stark Industries get color coded and sorted.
“No, you’re not. You’re just saying that to shut me up.”
“Well I’m failing spectacularly at that, aren’t I?”
“Don’t take it too hard, I’ve never met a woman who could render me speechless.”
“What about Miss California 2005?”
“That wasn’t speechlessness,” Tony counters and looks a little wistful as if recalling the memory. “That was earnest patriotism and a love for our country.”
She ignores him and yanks out one of the small olives in her drink by the toothpick and regards it with interest.
“2005...” He's consumed in thought before looking to her for confirmation. “The one with the gorgeous blue eyes, right?”
Pepper hates that she actually remembers this. “Actually, I think they were hazel.”
“Hazel. You’re right, of course. Still enchanting, definitely a national treasure. Unforgettable.”
Pepper snorts before she can control it and when Tony turns his head and raises his eyebrow she makes like she’s clearing her throat instead and pops the olive between her lips, chewing slowly. The action is drawn out and exaggerated and she smirks when she’s done.
Pepper finishes her drink in comfortable silence until Tony is harping at Rhodes for even suggesting they turning in early, which he claims is a major sign of weakness. Rhodey looks more than a little pissed-off when he hears this.
“In case you’ve forgotten, we’re working. I can’t have you show up to the demonstration hung-over, so do me a favor and make that your last drink, alright?”
“C’mon, Platypus.”
“I’m not playing with you, Tony. This is serious.”
“I know. I know. Pepper knows, too. It’s serious, isn’t it Pepper?”
Pepper has been battling heavy eyelids and only notices her name being spoken and jerks her head towards his voice. “Sir?”
Rhodey laughs, a full bodied laugh that makes his head tilt back a little and Pepper isn’t sure what’s so funny at first but the sound reverberates through her spine and makes her feel warm. “I can’t believe she didn’t wring your ass out for dragging her along to this demonstration, on her birthday no less. She’s a saint for putting up with you.”
“It’s a cake-walk. We’ll be in and out of there in no time.” Tony sounds like he’s done this a million times before and she knows that’s mostly true.
“Think of it like a field trip only it’s leaps and bounds more interesting, educational, and not to mention impressive.”
Eventually it’s the sound of Tony’s voice that lulls Pepper to sleep. It’s deep and has just the right amount of low tones while he and Rhodey take turns with their back and forth rapport. The sound of it is rhythmic and comfortingly repetitive like the ticking of a clock and it’s nice to hear their laughter instead of the usual silence she falls asleep to when she’s lying in bed and staring at her bedroom ceiling.
Tony guffaws and it’s the last sound her mind consciously recognizes as she drifts off to sleep, a strange feeling of warmth enveloping her.
Continued: Part II